Nightmare
by Katya Derevko
Summary: Sequel to
1. Default Chapter

Nightmare  
  
Chapter One: Reunion from Hell  
  
I felt a sharp pain in my head as I regain consciousness, and slowly opened my eyes. It was dark all around me. I tried to move my hands and found they had been cuffed behind my back. I surmised that I was in the back of a van, and that it was moving. How long had I been out? There was no way to tell.  
"Turn here." I heard Yelena's curt voice instruct in Russian. The fact that it was her voice still sent a shiver of shock down my spine. What had happened after she "died?" I should have known. Me, Sydney, Irina ... the women in this family have a way of coming back from the grave. To haunt those who have left them for dead. Is there any way I can get through to her?  
I felt the car jerk to a sudden stop, and I heard my little sister cursing vehemently in both Russian and English "What the – "  
Then I heard gunshots, muffled voices, and shouts. I heard Yelena gasp and cry out in pain. She had been hit. Desperately, I tried to free my hands, employing a "wrist trick" I had learned from a professional criminal in Brazil. It worked, though it left my wrists looking as though they were the product of an unsuccessful suicide attempt. I worked on freeing my feet, and had managed it by the time the back of the van flew open, and I had a gun pointed at me for the second time in 24 hours.  
I froze as I heard his cool, distinctly British voice. "All right, whoever you are, you're coming with me now, so ..." The rest of his words died on his lips when he saw who I was. The gun shook slightly in his hand, as his jaw dropped and his eyes widened in shock. I stared into the face of my son.  
"You!" He spat, looking furious. "You ... you're the one I've been ..." I heard a shout from outside, another gunshot, and we both turned our heads in the direction of the sound. He swore, grabbing me roughly by the arm and dragging me out of the van. There was no time for him to vent his rage now; we both knew that. "Get in the car," he snapped, pushing me in the direction of his dark blue convertible. He shot a man, presumably an SVR agent. I saw Yelena stumble out of the passenger side of the vehicle. There was a bullet wound in her right shoulder, but she was still holding her gun, and even as she grimaced in pain she tried to hold it steady as she trained it on Julian ...  
"NO!" I screamed, forcing her to look at me. I grabbed a gun off of one of the dead men and charged forward. Frantically pushing Julian aside, I felt a bullet graze my hip, but paid it no heed. I kicked the gun out of her hand, and she immediately reached for mine. She clawed her other hand onto my shoulder, and with a snarl on her face, she used her knee to deliver a blow to my stomach, so powerful it nearly made me throw up. Before I knocked her out, I noted wearily that she had a good technique.  
I heard Julian cock his gun behind me, and stiffened, wondering exactly who he intended to shoot. I turned to see he had pointed his weapon at her. Mentally fortifying myself, I turned to face him impassively, placing myself between him and my sister.  
"No."  
He looked at me with the same unreadable expression I was trying to project. My heart thudded painfully as I saw myself in the features of his face. "She'll alert others," he pointed out coolly.  
"Not if we take her with us."  
"This is not your decision to make ... Katya." The pointed way he used my name made me flinch. "Need I remind you that –"  
"Julian, this woman is your aunt. She is my youngest sister."  
He gaped at me again. His bewildered expression brought to mind his face as a child. He was so good at masking his emotions, but like me, he found them more difficult to disguise when he received a shock.  
"You're lying."  
"I wish I were." I swallowed, tasting my own blood in my mouth. This is one f***ed family reunion. "Irina and I both thought she was dead."  
Julian's lips quirked in an ironic twist as he contemplated the woman on the ground. "You should have known better. No one really dies in this family."  
God, he had just said the same thing I was thinking a few minutes ago. It was almost eerie, how much of myself I saw in him. Or was I only seeing it there because I wanted to?  
No time to contemplate that now. "We take her with us." I said. It wasn't a question, and Julian rankled at my tone.  
He pointed the gun at me again. "You aren't exactly in a position to dictate what we will and will not do."  
I walked closer up to him, until the barrel of the gun was almost touching my chest. He swallowed hard, his jaw clenching, as his eyes grew bright.  
"Don't think I won't do it. You ... you've caused me enough trouble already."  
I raised an eyebrow at him. Otherwise, I kept my features frozen, like a sheet of ice. "If you're going to do it, you should do it quickly. You haven't much time."  
Again, his hand shook. I held my breath, letting it out only when he sighed and lowered his weapon, defeated. "Damn it!" He shouted, slamming his gun angrily down on the hood of his own car, and cursing when he realized he'd ruined the paint job. "Irina would probably kill me anyway. Fine! You put her in the trunk."  
"But – "  
"The trunk." He said adamantly. "And bind her, too. He tossed me some cuffs. I winced as I moved; knowing his pride would prevent him from helping me, I worked as quickly as I could, despite my pain. He opened his trunk, and together we tossed her unceremoniously in.  
"Get in the car," he said brusquely. I limped to the passenger side as he started the engine. Just before he put his foot to the metal, I blurted out one word:  
"Seatbelts."  
He turned to glare at me. He opened his mouth as if to argue, and then the ridiculousness of my statement seemed to hit him. He shook his head, and he laughed. He actually laughed! My son looked at me for a moment, without contempt. I felt my heart soar. Everything I had been through this night was made worthwhile in that single split second.  
I leaned over and fastened his seatbelt, feeling him stiffen again as he remembered that he hated me. I buckled myself in as we sped away. We drove for a good fifteen minutes in silence, the tension between us stretched out in the miles. I was afraid to speak, but I felt I had to say something. I took a breath.  
"Julian – " Before I could get out another word out, a car slammed into us from the side, send us spinning across the street. Julian righted the card as best he could until someone shot out our tires. Undeterred, he skidded into a side street, only to have us get rammed again and backed into the corner of a dead end.  
"Stop the car." A gruff voice commanded as it approached us, gun in hand. Julian shut off the engine. He looked scared. God, how I wanted to reach out and hold him then. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes.  
"I'll give you one thing," he muttered, "you were right about the seatbelts."  
At another time, I might have laughed. Now, all I could do was reach for his hand, and hope he wouldn't pull away.  
"Well hello Julian, nice to see you again. Still got the buzz cut? Looks good. Really." The face of McKenas Cole leered in the driver's side window. His gaze shifted towards me, and he frowned. "Too bad I can't say the same for you. Pretty lady like yourself ... you really should let you hair grow out."  
Julian looked nervous as he replied. "Sir, I can explain – "  
I saw what I had to do. "Wait a minute!" I screeched, hoping I sounded appropriately hysterical. "When did you get a British accent? You said the CIA would keep me safe if I told you what you needed to know!"  
Julian just looked at me. I went in as if to assault him. McKenas Cole was laughing as he came around to my side of the car and had his guards pull me out. I put my hands on my son's face as I whispered, "Get Yelena out of here if you can. Keep your mouth shut, and you'll be ok. I love you."  
His shock was even stronger than when he had first seen me. Tonight, surprise seemed to be his expression of choice, appropriately enough. I felt him tear his gaze away from me as they began the beating. I was probably going to be tortured, interrogated, and then killed. I stored the secrets that I could not tell away in the darkest corner of my heart, and slipped almost serenely into unconsciousness once again, knowing I would be able to keep my son safe. 


	2. Waking or Sleeping

Nightmare  
  
Chapter Two: Waking or Sleeping  
  
I woke up again, after several days of decidedly unpleasant questioning, to a pounding head and an aching body. I felt like I had the world's worst hangover. If only. I smiled bitterly to myself as I opened my eyes to look up at McKenas Cole. He had a gun in his hand, and naturally, he was leering again; it seemed to be his perpetual expression.  
"You're a tough chick, huh? I respect that. I mean seriously, I thought this would be easy, but ..." he shook his head. "You know, believe it or not, I really don't like doing this." He attempted to wipe the leer off his face, but it wasn't working. It was still there as I glared at him. "Really, I'm not a big fan of crushing the human spirit and all that crap. Come on, just make it easy on yourself, won't ya? All I want is to know who you're working for, what their objectives are, and what you've told them about the Covenant. That's it."  
He looked down at me, waiting to see how I would respond. I struggled to stand as I locked eyes with him.  
"Arvin was right. You are as insincere as you are incompetent." His eyes widened at the mention of Sloane's name, and I had the satisfaction of laughing in his face before he pistol-whipped me to the ground.  
"Well, well, you're a pretty ballsy old gal, aren't you?" He was trying to act as though my reference to Arvin hadn't bothered him, but I could tell otherwise from his tone.  
"More so than you, at least. But then, I guess that's not really saying much, is it?"  
He kicked me in the head, but I did not regret my words. "Okay, at first I was impressed," he growled, "But now I'm just pissed. If you think what you've already been through is bad, you won't believe what I got planned next!" He bent down so that his face was closer to mine. "Now, being the gentleman and all-around good sport that I am, I'll give you a few hours to rethink your position. And then, when I come back, believe you me, if you're not in the mood for a little chat, we're still gonna have a lot of fun." I caught a last fleeting glimpse of his sneer before he departed, bolting the door behind him. Well, at least I wasn't handcuffed this time. I looked around the gray room, trying to ascertain if there was any way I could escape. My mind was spinning, but I tried to center it on thoughts of freedom. Still, I couldn't help wondering about Yelena ... and Julian. Also Irina, I had to wonder what you were doing right now. I'm sure you and Jack were already feeling very put out about having to come to my rescue, being the ingrates that you are. The clank of metal interrupted my thoughts. "I've come to interrogate the prisoner," I heard someone say. I was confused. Hadn't Cole said he'd give me a few hours? Was surprise part of his "strategy?" Well, if so, it certainly wouldn't work. Mentally, I fortified myself, preparing my body for more pain. I heard a scuffle in the hallway, voices arguing and – was I imagining it? – the sound of someone choking! The heavy door clanged open, a dirty light brimming through. I squinted until my eyes adjusted enough for me to discern the figure in the doorway. "Julian." I gasped. He looked at me, then away. "Irina made me come," he said. "Can you walk?" I saw another figure, and recognized the voice as Jack's. His tone, in contrast with my son's, was not awkward, was businesslike and practical. "Julian will help her," this was from you, Irina. God, it's so good to hear your voice! You pushed past your husband to scoop me up off the floor, wrapping me in your embrace, which I returned gratefully. "You are such a fool, Katya – you know that, don't you? Next time, no holding out on me, you give me the intel as soon as you get it!" You released me, smiling shakily, as I struggled to stay on my own two feet. "Julian, you come over here and help her," you called over your shoulder. "Like hell I will. I already dragged myself all the way to Moscow to help you break her out, right under the nose of the most volatile idiot I've ever had the misfortune of working for! You do it – you're her dear big sister." "Shut up!" This was Jack again. "We don't have time for this," he continued, as I leaned on you and we all began to stumble out the doorway. "Help her." "Oh you shut up," Julian snapped, "Or else I'll started calling you 'uncle.'" "Not funny!" This was a fourth voice, one I didn't recognize, but which was identified soon enough.  
"It wasn't meant to be, Sydney." I turned to see the face of my niece, and I saw so much of you there (especially since she seemed to be angry) that I nearly fell to the floor again. I wondered nervously if she had your temper. If she does, I thought, Julian had better watch out!  
"She risked her life for you, and you can't even –"  
"Enough!" You and Jack said together. Resignedly, my son offered me his arm. I leaned heavily on him out of necessity, and we exited the building as quickly as we could. "Of all the people I have to be related to ..." I heard Sydney mutter.  
"Get over it, cousin." Julian grunted as he struggled to keep pace with the rest of them while helping me. "We all know you're the paragon of virtue and I'm the ultimate weasel of evil or something. Don't worry, no one will be drawing parallels between us any time soon."  
Sydney seemed almost chastened by this bitter sarcasm. Clearly, she had inherited something of her father's more restrained manner; while I could see a heated response forming in her mind, she held herself in check as we made for a sleek black car in the parking lot. I breathed a sigh of relief. Good. I don't think the world could handle another woman with your volatile temper, my sister.  
Suddenly, I realized one family member was still unaccounted for. "Where's Yelena?" I turned to my son, ignoring the pain in my head as I did so. "Please, Julian –"  
"In the car." I heard the tightness in your voice as you replied.  
"Don't worry," Julian added, as he helped me into the passenger rear side. "We gave her enough tranqs to knock out an elephant." And indeed, I saw her there, bruised, slouched and ... strapped in, seatbelt and all. I looked at Julian, and he smiled at me. "Well you know," he shrugged. "Figured you'd want her to be buckled in and all."  
"How is she?"  
"Better than she deserves to be," you said bitterly, as you squeezed into the front of the car with your husband and daughter.  
"Rina ..." I began.  
"Later," you said, as you turned on the ignition. "Later, we'll talk about ... everything." I knew you were referring to more than just our little sister; there was also the matter of the mole's identity. Had Julian told you already? I couldn't be sure. Without further preamble, you pulled out of the parking lot. I heard cars speeding after us and knew operatives from the Covenant were already on our tail.  
"Jack, Sydney – I have a safe house nearby where we can regroup and tend to everyone's wounds. Then we can decide our next move. Agreed?" I assume they both nodded, because you said, "Good then," as you took a sharp turn, trying to throw the pursuing vehicles off our trail.  
"Don't I get a vote?" Julian called from the back.  
"NO!" The three of you said simultaneously. He smirked. "Thought not. Ah well, no harm in asking."  
I saw Sydney twist around in her seat to face me. "I wanted to thank you ... Katya ... for helping me and Vaughn in North Korea. For ... well, for saving our lives!"  
I looked into the face of my niece, so open and honest, so devoid of pretension; her eyes were wide and kind. Were we ever like that, Irina? I can't even imagine.  
"Don't be foolish, my dear. You are family. The need, the obligation to help you – it is in my blood." I heard Julian give a contemptuous snort. Sydney looked as if she wanted to snap at him again, but in the end, she bit her lip, gave me a small smile, and turned back around. I swallowed.  
"Julian ..." I felt my throat close around the sound of his name as I struggled to speak.  
He looked at me for a long moment. Then he looked down and buckled himself in. Very deliberately, he put on my seatbelt as well. "Suppose I should thank you too. For not ratting me out to Cole." He avoided my eyes as he spoke. I winced as the car jerked to a halt, and then sped up again, renewing the pounding pain in my head.  
"Are you alright?" It was probably just wishful thinking, but I thought I heard genuine concern in his voice.  
Despite my discomfort, I smiled at him. "I'm fine. Are you?"  
"I guess." His eyes locked with mine, seeking I know not what. For a moment, I considered it, and I almost didn't. But then, when I realized I might not have another opportunity, I decided to take my chances.  
"Don't be mad at me for this," I whispered, as I wrapped my son in a hug, one that, despite my condition was (I think) as bone crushing as one of yours. I felt him stiffen. "This is so stupid," he muttered, his voice brusque. "I'm not going to ..." I held him tighter, until I finally felt his arms slip slowly around me, returning my embrace. "It's hardly fair, you sacrificing yourself, acting so noble when I'm busy trying to hate you, you ..." his voice broke, and he rested his head on my shoulder. "Completely unfair." He muttered again. I let him go, and kissed his forehead.  
"Sorry," I said, as we half-laughed in the darkness of the car, speeding through the Moscow streets at night. The thought occurred to me that perhaps I will still in Cole's cell, or in the back of Yelena's van, or even in my hotel room, sound asleep, my breathing slow and even, as it was now. If this is so, I mused, as I held onto my son, all I can hope for is never to wake up. 


	3. Worth an Explanation

Nightmare  
  
Chapter Three: Worth an Explanation  
  
"My my my, what tasteful décor." Julian looked around your safe house approvingly. "I don't suppose there's any chance for a glass of some Chateau Petrus? Preferably1982?"  
"It's too late for you to drink," I said.  
Julian turned and gave me the look. I think you know the one, Rina. He was surprised when I smiled, not understanding the gift he'd bestowed on me. I'd never gotten the look before.  
"Get Yelena out of the car and maybe I'll find some," you said. Julian turned towards the door with a mock sigh. "I get all the worst chores in this family."  
Sydney giggled. Jack looked as though he was wondering if the situation could get any more surreal.  
"I'll help you," I said, half-limping over to him. You started to protest, but, armed with a look of my own, I silenced you. Julian considered me as he held open the door.  
"She should be coming to any minute now," he warned as we approached the car. He opened the rear passenger door and, as I leaned in to unbuckle her, she moaned and stirred. Her lids fluttered open, and she looked around. She still seemed only half-conscious as her eyes focused on me.  
"Y-y-you!" She stuttered. "You ... you're ... how ..."  
I pulled her out of the car, grateful that she was too weak and disoriented to struggle.  
"Really, Yelena, I'm afraid your prowess as a spy leaves something to be desired. But then, it's not your fault the SVR trains its operatives so poorly. What else can one expect from a second-rate organization?"  
"Bitch!"  
I smiled grimly. "Love you too, dear." Julian laughed.  
At this, Yelena's jaw tightened, and her eyes widened, revealing the fire of her anger as she struggled from my grasp, lashing out with a kick meant for Julian's head. Fortunately, her aim was still way off.  
"Enough!" I grabbed the back of her neck, applying pressure to a key spot, and her body went limp as she lapsed into unconsciousness once more. How many times are we going to have to knock this girl out? Yeesh. Julian looked mildly impressed.  
"Can you show me how to do that?"  
"Maybe later. After we get your aunt in the house, we'll talk."  
He looked at me warily, and raised an eyebrow. "About what, exactly?"  
"Everything."  
He swallowed, seeming unnerved. Then his expression changed, and he gave me a cool look. "And what if I don't feel especially inclined towards conversation?"  
"Then you can just listen. And if you don't feel like listening, well, then I can guarantee you, you'll have no chance of Irina getting you that Chateau, to say the least."  
He considered this for a moment, and then his features took on a yet another expression. It was very subtle, but all I could think was sulk. "Alright, now you're just not playing fair."  
I suppressed a grin as I replied: "I never do." A little while later, after we had tended to Yelena's wounds as best we could, you were in conference with your husband and daughter at one end of the room. Your voices were low and serious. I smiled as I saw you reach for Jack's hand, apparently without even realizing what you were doing. He seemed to respond in the same unconscious manner, twining your fingers with his while his eyes remained on Sydney. Your daughter's gaze flicked quickly down, then up again, a slight smile appearing on her face as she looked at the two of you, nodding absently at something one or the other of you had said. "Ah, how love endures." He had noticed too. Julian's voice was as soft as it was mocking. He caught his eyes with mine, and shrugged. "Turn your head," he said more gently, and he applied an antibiotic to a gash over my eye. As he put a bandage on, I contemplated what I would say to him. "Julian – " "So how much younger is Yelena than you anyway? Oh, and do I have any other insane relatives I should watch out for? Not that she was exactly difficult to deal with. Still, it would be nice to have a little preemptive – " "Julian." "Do we really have to do this? I mean, can't we just leave all this lovely angst and familial drama to its own devices?" "Chateau Petrus, Julian." He sighed. "The things I do for a good drink." "All you have to do is listen for a while. Then, you can go have your drink, or hit me over the head, or whatever you want." His expression grew guarded again as I continued. I wasn't relishing the conversation either, but I knew I had to get it over with. "When I married your father," (I saw his jaw tighten), "it was not my intention to get pregnant." I looked away from him as I continued, afraid his eyes would silence me. "The only experience I had ever had in looking after a child was when I tended to your aunt Yelena, long ago. Yes, she is almost eight years younger than me. When I learned she had ... 'died,'" I smiled at the black irony of the word, "I knew there was more I could've done, should've done for her." "Suffice it to say, her, Irina, and I did not have the best of parents, or the most pleasant of childhoods, but supposedly, we had each other. Like Irina, I was recruited by the KGB at a very young age, and I lost track of the sister who separated from me by both miles and years – until, of course, it was too late." I glanced at Julian out of the corner of my eye to see how he was taking all this so far. He seemed attentive as I went on. "I tell you this not to gain your sympathy, but in the hopes that you can better understand why I had compunctions about raising a child of my own. Children were ... um ... supposed to have been a medical impossibility for me." His eyes probed mine questioningly as I continued, hurrying now to continue my narrative. "I was scared when you were born. I was afraid ... that I would fail you. Or ruin you." I shrugged, looking down, keeping my voice and my body steady. "And I knew I was a selfish person, used to focusing on my own needs, and not those of others. How could I possibly attend to a child?" I shook my head. "These concerns ... they did not vanish when you were put into my arms. Gradually, however, the reality of you, your overwhelming and remarkable presence in my life – it pushed my worries aside, made them part of the background noise in the everyday hum of my thoughts." "In this way, the first few years I spent with your father were pleasant enough. I fancied I saw myself in you, the qualities in me that I was pleased with, and proud of. Your father and I were both KGB operatives, and his diplomatic title worked well for our purposes. What went wrong between us ..." I took a breath. This was the hardest part. Julian's eyes were glued to my face, as if her were hanging on to my every word. "You need to know," I said, "that Andrian was, even for our times, very old- fashioned. I didn't realize it then, but I think he wanted me to quit active duty and confine myself to a domestic role after we 'settled down.'"  
  
"He was displeased that I had a higher standing in the KGB than he did; I suppose he found it emasculating. Things came to a head when our superior, Alexander Khashinau, came to see us with a fairly simple assignment that Andrian thought was for him. Of course, it was mine." I smiled bitterly at the memory, recalling what I had done 'wrong.' "The fact that I had once been in a ... personal relationship ... with Khashinau," I paused, looking determinedly at the floor; I really didn't want to see the expression on my son's face when I revealed this to him, "only made things worse. I had never told your father, but it was not as though I meant to keep it secret. When he asked me point-blank, after I returned from my assignment, I did not lie to him. The truth left him," I swallowed, "displeased." "I remember his ... displeasure," he said in a low, deadly voice. Julian's hands had balled up into fists, and his eyes were bright with a cold rage. I plunged on, desperate now to finish. "I knew then that I had to get out. Out of the marriage, and away from Andrian. For my own well-being. But there was more to it than that. You see, Julian, I was as furious as you are, and, just as you did, I wanted revenge." He looked up at me, a cold gleam of excitement in his eyes. "I was patient. I let Andrian believe he had broken me to his will. After some time, I told him I was going to Moscow to resign from active duty. I had already concocted a plan with Alexander – I mean Khashinau – that would frame Andrian as a traitor and put him in a Siberian prison camp for the rest of his natural life." I thought I saw a look of grim satisfaction on my son's face as I spoke. "My one mistake – my greatest mistake – was not finding some way of taking you with me. I was so caught up in visiting my wrath upon your father that I failed to considered the repercussions of my actions in regards to you. I had planned to go back to London and get you after your father's sentencing but," I paused, "I had not counted on how far the influence of his family extended. If they had found me with you, they would have taken you away from me, and poisoned your mind against me. I couldn't stand for that. I figured if you were going to grow up to hate me, it would be better that you did it of your own volition." I sensed he wanted to speak now, but, as I was near the end of my explanation, I wanted to finish first. "When the Union fell, your father was released from prison, but I no longer feared for myself in regards to him, for his family was in shambles by then. I knew you'd already been in trouble with the law in London ... following in my footsteps, I suppose." I half-smiled. "Oh yes, I was a criminal before I was a patriot. Irina, too. So I sent her to get you, rationalizing that if you were going to choose this life, you could at least work for someone who'd always watch out for you. I could do that much for you, I thought. I was taking care of you in my own inept, second-hand way. You deserved better, but I did what seemed to make the most sense in an impossible situation." "What I can't forgive myself for is that I put my needs before yours, just as I had always feared I would. After I abandoned you, I knew I had no right to ask you for anything. Not your understanding, your loyalty, and certainly not your love." "I should never have let my need for revenge blind me to the fact that I was risking losing you forever. Maybe ... I could have found some way to work out my problems with you father. I could've stayed –" "No." My son's voice, though low, seemed to have so much force behind it that it was shaking. "I never would have wanted you stay there with him, to see you like that, doing what he wanted, saying what he ..." He stopped, and began again. "Even then, I couldn't have stood to see you. Not like that. Ever." This time I knew I could not hold him. My arms wouldn't even move as I felt the tears running down my face, soft and silent. "And now there are two things you need to know." He said, steadying his voice as he struggled to maintain his composure. "One: yes, you should've found a way to take me with you. I was always waiting for you to return. And I was still waiting for you, when Irina showed up in your stead." "Two: Of course you had, you have, no right to ask for my love. Assuming that I have any to give. I prefer to believe that I do, but, as I have inherited your penchant for self-interest, in all honesty it is difficult to tell. You didn't have a right. You had an obligation," I started to say something, but he stopped me, his voice rising. "No. It's your turn to listen now! You had a responsibility to ask. You understand? That's what you were supposed to do. Whether you would've been able to cope with the answer you received is entirely irrelevant. So don't mistake me. Don't think one embrace can stretch across the years and cancel them out. Just because I – I love you – that doesn't mean you're going to be forgiven. Ever." He had starting crying too. Just a little, but enough for me to curse myself for bringing him to tears. He gave a little laugh to try to mask this as he shook his head. "You know, I think you were right about the drink. It is too late. So I'll just be going to bed now." He stalked off to one of the smaller rooms, leaving me there, my eyes streaming. I have never been as stoic as you, Rina; still, I had not let myself cry in a long, long time. On the other side of the room, you and your family had fallen silent. I was peripherally aware of you murmuring something to Jack and Sydney, who retired to their own rooms as you came to sit by my side, taking your hands in mine. And you were just there. There was no call for words. When you saw that I was calming down, you silently led me to my own sleeping quarters, and before retiring yourself, you went to shoot our sister up with another tranquilizer, just as a precaution. Yelena. Someone else I needed to explain things to. Another conversation that I wasn't relishing. Still, I thought, as I slipped into some nightclothes and got in between the sheets, the worst is over. Of all the feelings tumbling around inside me, I picked out one, and held it in the center of my heart, hoping it would help me to dream of something pleasant, just for once. It was a feeling evoked by something Julian had just said. Putting aside the fact that I was terminally unforgiven, I remembered that, in the midst of his pain and rage, he had also said I love you. 


End file.
